


Four Walls and a Roof

by thewickedone (JacobWhit)



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacobWhit/pseuds/thewickedone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Amarillo Cade is a resident of the ghettos in Tulsa, Oklahoma. His mother died when he was younger, his father turned into a major drunk, and Johnny joined a gang. He had no idea the effect one of the boys would have on him, and the consequences that it'd bring about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guilty As Charged

**Author's Note:**

> I've read the Outsiders, but when I was in, about the seventh grade, so forgive me because I don't remember much. I did, however, enjoy the movie, and became a major fan of the characters, and shipper of two someones, and I'm sure you already know who they are, considering this is mostly about them...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and Ponyboy's a natural blond in this. :)

The smoke from the lit cigarette billowed into the gently blowing air, and the nicotine burned at the back of Johnny's throat. He sat back against the brick exterior of the abandoned warehouse, and propped up his foot. He had nothing to worry about. He was with his gang: one Curtis brother, Winston, and Two-Bit, and away from his father. The day had just gotten started, the sun was just rising, and that golden horizon that Ponyboy loved so much had shown itself, and Cade was there to witness the smile on his face that had overtaken him. The various colors that had marked his features, cast shadows among it, had awed Johnny to no end. At one moment, while the other boys were looking away, caught up in the view, and their own small talk, Johnny managed to steal a glimpse at Pony. The sight was something close to magical. His tuff hair was pushed back, combed and organized, and the light that had hit his face, made dark silhouettes underneath those blue eyes of his, and even though he looked tired, and barely awoke, he looked more elegant than anything.

Some time after watching the up and coming sun, and the distorted colors of the sky, for what seemed to be hours, Ponyboy turned to Johnny, and he was saying something to him, clearly, because his lips were moving, but all Johnny could do was stare at his mouth. The sound of Ponyboy's voice was muffled, and sounded far away, but he was right there, just inches from Johnny. He could touch him if he wanted to; feel him to make sure that he was alive. He knew it, obviously, he was standing in front of him, but he just wanted to be sure. Ponyboy had begun to laugh, and Johnny still couldn't hear him, or understand what he was saying, but he was laughing and that smile on his face had the power to do all sorts of things to Johnny's stomach. It could turn it upside down, inside out, and make it feel as if it were being overtaken by a swarm of butterflies. Awkwardly, he felt the hard taste of vomit at his esophagus, and willed himself to keep it down by he swallowing hard.

Pony finally got his attention by lightly punching Johnny on the arm. Sound, along with life, had returned to him in that instant. He heard the loud screeching of trains coming to a halt, the sound of birds squawking from above, children laughing a few neighborhoods over, and the busy streets of Tulsa alive and well.

"Whatcha starin' at me like that for?" asked Pony with a small giggle, hand swiping across the lightly beaded exterior of his forehead.

Johnny was stuck. He didn't know how to make up lies too quick. His father had exposed him for every one of them he'd come up with. His bottom lip dropped, but no words came forth, only a few breaths to steady himself. He was sure he was close to fainting.

Pony couldn't help but laugh, because Johnny had the stupidest look on his face. "Just forget it," he said, and nudged Johnny's shoulder one more time before turning to Dallas and Two-Bit who were wrestling around in the grass.

Dally had Two-Bit in a head lock, and forced the young boy to tap out before they were at it, again. Johnny and Ponyboy just observed from the sidelines, arms folded, both grinning like the Cheshire cat, but only one was actually paying attention to the boys scrapping. The other couldn't keep his eyes off his friend, no matter how hard he wanted to deny how he made him feel, or how much control he unknowingly had over him. Suddenly, the blond-haired boy had leaped forward, and joined Dally and Two-Bit on the ground, taking them both on. They easily overpowered his lean self, but Pony kept on fighting. They called to Johnny a few times to join, urged him tirelessly to have some fun on their day out of school. Well, they weren't really out of school, they just figured they could all take some time off. Darry wouldn't want Pony to skip school. He forbade it. Soda wouldn't, either, but he understood what Pony was going through. After their parents' death and all. Since then he hadn't been the same. With the gang, there was at least some semblance of life.

They suggested over and over for Johnny to join, but when the boy shook his head, smiling with his crooked teeth for the umpteenth time, Dally blurted, through Ponyboy's splayed legs, "Get over here, ya fairy!"

Johnny allowed the insult to settle in for a moment. His smile from before had erased, and any sort of happiness that was left inside his heart had shattered to bits. His fists balled, and his smile became tight-lipped. They could read that anger that had flushed over him, watched as his bronze cheeks had turned a bright red, and witnessed the way his stomach began to heave up and down as his breaths became unsteady, and malice had replaced any type of love in his heart that had stayed no matter the pain his father had caused him. Johnny could see the immediate regret on Dally's face. He saw the way his dark eyes lowered to the grown in submission, the way his brows had been brought together in a fight to hold back, what seemed from afar, tears. Johnny was doing the same.

Ponyboy lifted from the ground, watching Johnny's face with a closeness that couldn't be mistaken. The moment his lips opened to form words, whether good or bad, Johnny took off in a dash. Although he ran, he was sure what Pony had to say was something worth listening to. He couldn't imagine him ever saying anything as hurtful, reckless, or problematic as Dally had always done. Ponyboy always had a way with words. Always. If anyone had to sway a crowd, or convince the masses to not engage in civil war, he could do it. His voice was _that_ powerful.

Johnny had gone to the only place, other than a church, that could sooth him; that could stop his tears, and return his blood pressure to normal. The movie house. All he needed was a good laugh. He kicked his feet along the sidewalk, the broken cement underneath him is where he wanted to be; unseen, unheard of. He just waned to retract into himself, and disappear. For a moment, he wondered if anyone else in the world was going through what he was currently fighting. Demons were what he was fighting. He didn't want to defeat them, necessarily, but tame them enough so that they'd be on a leash, and when he needed them, he could cry out to them like calls to like.

He angrily took his seat in the large and dark room, threw his back into the spine of the chair, stomped his feet on the ground, and crossed his arms over his chest with clenched fists. A group of three girls a few rows ahead of him had heard the strange commotion, whipped their heads around to him, and stared daggers down his throat. He was about to address the issue head on with a few choice words when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He went rigid, and his eyes shot up to the right of him, and staring down at him were those baby blues that he had become familiar with over the course of a few years. Johnny didn't know if Ponyboy meant to make him feel smaller than he was. He was sure he didn't intend it at all, but it felt that way.

"Don't mind 'em," Pony said, taking a seat on the left of Johnny. The movie had just begun, and there was an eery silence that had taken over the movie house. It was too quiet. Johnny blamed it on his paranoia, but he could literally hear the air vents that were a few feet above them. He expected Pony to say something. Anything. As always, he wasn't let down. Ponyboy leaned over, close to Johnny's cheek. A little too close, but Johnny didn't argue. "What Dally said..." Pony began, his voice was calm and warm, and understanding, and the vibration it sent through Johnny gave him absolute chills. "What Dally said wasn't right at all..." He paused. Perhaps he needed to get in the correct mindset of what he needed to say. Johnny figured, if he didn't run away, look so offended, maybe the gang wouldn't suspect anything. Maybe Ponyboy knew his secret, and he was trying to find some type of way to come out and say it - to affirm Johnny's own suspicions. Immediately, his hands became sweaty, and he could taste the unsettling flavor of vomit at the back of his throat for the second time. He swallowed hard and ordered himself to stay calm, but his body wasn't listening to him anymore, and his foot began to tremble.

Ponyboy, out of frustration, had run his hands through his hair, and poked his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. Johnny couldn't even look at him anymore. He had brought his brows together, and looked almost wounded.

Johnny swallowed hard again, and prepared himself to speak. "You don't have to say anything," he lead. A few more words and he'd be in tears. He wondered how he'd be able to go on.

"No," Pony had stopped him before he could say anymore, "I _have_ to say something. What Dally said was wrong. You know, and I know, that what he said was outta line. We're a family, and family don't say that to one another." He stopped for a while to gather his conscious. "I'm not gonna make some kind of excuse for him that would make him say that. Quite frankly, I don't know why he'd say that. Maybe he was jokin' around or-"

"You're makin' excuses for him," Johnny interrupted. Ponyboy chuckled. He was.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and sat back in his seat. "I won't let it happen again." Johnny felt safeness in every word he spoke.

They didn't stay for the entire movie. Just a few minutes in, Johnny had gotten tired of the stupid jokes, and the three girls in the row ahead of him kept turning to glimpse at Ponyboy. One even dared to wink. The air was warm outside, and the sun was at its highest. School had to be ending soon. Johnny had gotten through the day, although there was a ripple in the flowing river, the river's current corrected itself, and the day had gotten good again. He was with Ponyboy for what felt like forever. He wanted it to be forever. The only thing - the only people - that could ruin any of that would be the Socs. And there were some pulling right up on Johnny and Pony. Two girls, one red head, and the other blonde. Johnny recognized them, and so did Pony, because as soon as he glanced at them, he yelled her name. Cherry Valance. The two boys in the front were decent, wealthy people. "Decent," as in kept to themselves, and let their money do the talking. The pantoned-colored convertible that belonged to the boy in the driver's seat was certainly a looker.

Pony was beginning to make conversation with Cherry when another blue convertible, just as nice as the one that had pulled up next to the young boys, had pulled in behind it. The car was made up of all boys, most likely a few grades ahead of them, and they looked menacing, and not to be trusted at all. Johnny took a cautious step back, and Ponyboy noticed.

"What's wrong?" asked one of the blond boys in the passenger seat. "Can't outrun a car?" The dark-haired boy in the driver's seat revved up the engine.

"Go home Cherry," said Ponyboy in a hushed tone. She looked at him, and it was clear she was, if not scared, then shaken tremendously. He looked at her. "Just do it."

The boy in the driver's seat of the red car, Lance was his name, took off without hesitation. And so did the blue one.

Johnny found himself down an alleyway. He swore Ponyboy was right behind him, but his vision had become blurred, and he was wheezing, and was tired. He needed to stop smoking.

Everything that happened next commenced in slow motion. There was the bright and blinding glare of the sun, the street, and a car.

Johnny's eyes cracked open, and he caught a brief look at Ponyboy's face. He was leaning over him, and on the verge of crying, it seemed. Darkness overtook Johnny's vision, and it ate Ponyboy's face. Johnny took the image of him into the blackness, and vowed to remember it forever.

Movement was all around him. He could feel the air shifting and blowing, the product of people moving quick. Voices came and went, and there was a conversation being held, because for about five minutes, it was the same two voices. Both were recognizable. One was clearly his father, but the other was an older male, but identifiable. His principal, maybe.

Johnny lifted his eyes, and the bright iridescent lights burned his irises, and he was forced to close them. He waited a while, and opened them again. It proved to be less of a feat the second time around. He gulped, but it hurt, and his throat was beyond dry. He cried out for water. The two men at the front noticed his movement, and sad attempt to speak. One left, while the other stayed. A dark figure lurched toward Johnny, and he wondered if it was his eyes playing tricks on him, or if it were reality.

"I had to get out of bed for this?" Johnny recognized that voice before it even hit him, and he was frozen with fear. He could even smell the disgusting scent of alcohol on his lips. It might as well have been poison. The grip his father had on his arm was deathly. Johnny could do nothing about it. "Wait till we get home." And that was a promise.

There wasn't anything wrong with Johnny Cade. He'd escaped the accident with just a few abrasions on his legs, but nothing too serious for an overnight stay. Turns out, his principal had left the school for a meeting, and was returning when Johnny had ran out in front of him.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold of his home, the moment he thought he was even remotely safe, his legs were lit on fire with whips from his father. Johnny screamed, his father screamed, and soon both their screams had been mended into one, and his father thought that that was the most beautiful music that existed. The beating lasted for just a few minutes. Johnny had gotten away, ran to his room, and locked his door to where his father stayed, and shouted insults from the other side. Johnny swam in his tears, and cried himself to sleep. The dream he had was of Ponyboy coming into his room, climbing into his bed, and staying with him for the rest of the night as his head laid on his chest. All he wanted was Ponyboy to stay with him. Or anyone, for that matter.

He woke up at an unknown hour to assess the bleeding on his legs that had stained the sheets. He'd pay for that later, too. But while he sat there on the edge of his bed, he closed his eyes, and stretched his mind to wherever Ponyboy was, and wished him to know that he was safe.


	2. Demons That Lay Afloat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Johnny Cade was battling his own demons, Ponyboy still had a few to take care of. A late night trip to the park's fountain has a surprising ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really important to say here, just hope you enjoy this slightly Curtis brother(s)-centric chapter!

The music blared through the car, bounced off the interior, and thrummed directly into Ponyboy's ears. Johnny Cash's lyrics vibrated through him, and the blood at his ears began to beat louder and louder as his father reached forward to dial up the volume of the radio. He found Pony's blue orbs in the rear-view mirror, and Pony found his father's own staring back at him. Frozen in that moment, they both shared the same wide smile.

_I gave my woman half my money at the general store,_   
_I said, "Now buy a little groceries and don't spend no more."_   
_But she paid ten dollars for a ten cent hat,_   
_And bought some store-bought cat food for that mean-eyed cat_

Sitting in the middle had proven to be a grave mistake for Ponyboy, because Darry and Soda couldn't control their body movements anymore. Their hands flew around sporadically, and their shoulders slammed into Pony's own again and again as they rocked outward and then inward. Ponyboy felt like a sandwich being squished each time the older boys rammed into him.

_When I woke up this mornin' and I turned my head,_   
_There wasn't a cotton pickin' thing on her side of the bed._   
_I found a little ol' note, where her head belonged._   
_It said, "Dear John, honey, baby, I'm long gone"_

Soda was shouting then, although, he'd argue and say that it was him actually singing. His voice was almost louder than the music itself, and when the next stanza came up, he pointed to Darry to take the lead.

_When I heard a whistle blowin' and the big wheels a-turnin',_   
_I was scared as I could be._   
_I put on my overalls and I headed to town._   
_Gonna bring her back with me_

The whole car erupted into laughter as Darry finished his line. His voice cracked as he tried to get it into some sickening high pitch, while Mr. Cash was on a-whole-nother tune. A better tune. Everyone was tickled, but Pony the most. He'd heard Darry attempt to sing multiple times; to various girls around school, in the shower, and even to himself, once, when they had seen a scary movie, and the young boy struggled to sleep.

_I asked the man down at the station if he'd seen her there._   
_I told him all about her pretty eyes and long, blonde hair._   
_He spit his tobacco, said, "I'll be dad blamed,_   
_I believe I did see her leavin' on the east-bound train"_

The Curtis brothers' father took a jab at the song, and scored numerous sounds of whistles from his sons as he reached over and stroked their mother's fine brown hair, dragging his fingers along the contours of her jaw that made a smile rip across her face from ear to ear. Ponyboy noticed her shudder in her seat, and his cheeks became inflamed, and he was sure they were bright red. Thanks to the darkness inside the car, the others didn't notice. He felt as if he were invading on his parents' privacy somehow. But he'd noticed them sharing kisses and pinching each others' buttocks before, and somehow, a simple stroke of the jaw was something much more intimate. As if that single touch could bring down the veils surrounding a heart.

Suddenly, his mother reached her hand over to his fathers' arm, and the grip she had on it was deathly.

His name shrieked from her lips, Ponyboy's eyes were met with a blinding light, and before he knew it, hands were around him before his butt could spring from the seat underneath it.

* * *

Ponyboy had many wishes, but one was more important than any other thing in his vast, nearly endless list of them. He wished to know when he were in the "good o'l days," so he'd be able to enjoy it in that moment, than be forced to remember it as what could've been.

The gravel crunched underneath his feet as he trudged through the dark streets. The dim streetlights that glowed from above painted the pathway to his home. The events that had transpired earlier in the day had been the only thing on Pony's mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of anyone but Johnny Cade and his safety. He wondered, if by stretching his mind, that somehow, someway, he could channel Johnny's own, and tell him that everything was alright. Dally and Two-Bit had waited at the hospital with Ponyboy, but when Johnny's father had come in to check on his son, Dally already knew, just by the man's swaying, and slurred words, that he was drunk, or at least sobering up, but the loud smell of alcohol lingered on his lips. Dally had got in the man's face, and began to tell him off, and it almost got physical before Two-Bit stepped in. Pony couldn't move. His eyes were glued directly to Johnny's hospital door. When that golden knob would eventually turn, whenever that time would be, he wanted to be the first to see him.

Stepping off the curb, Ponyboy's head shot up, and he realized that he was there. Home. That small white house where everyone and everything he'd ever loved was right there in front of him, and Johnny wasn't there. He could see the lights from the inside, clearly, because whoever was inside had the curtain pulled back to where the kitchen table could be seen. A few minutes passed as the eery silence had taken over, and he watched as Sodapop crossed in front of the window with a phone pressed to his ear, and his hand running through his dark hair. It was only a few seconds, but Ponyboy could see the clear worry on his face. He thought it was his own tiredness playing with him, but Pony swore Soda's face was as green as a sprout of broccoli.

Ponyboy's stomach began to churn and turn, and he feel could his insides twisting to the brink of bursting, and then he began to wonder how Darry felt. Ponyboy instantly became mortified, and his feet solidified themselves to the ground underneath him, and no matter how bad he wanted to run, he couldn't. Darry had warned him, had promised him many times, that if Pony were to ever get caught up in some mess that would give them a bad reputation, on top of their already-bad reputation, he'd be one sorry boy. Pony liked to think that it was all to keep him scared out of doing something potentially endangering, but he couldn't help but think of Darry and his scrunched up face and fist coming at him. The boy second-guessed every single thing from the step he took, and on...

Pushing open the rusty gate with an unforeseen force, the sound of the metal squeaked into the air, and it must've been the overall silence, because it seemed much louder than it actually was, and Ponyboy _jumped_ , gripping the gate door with quickness, to stop its sound from traveling any further. After a few minutes of silence passed, then did Ponyboy begin to move again, traveling up the staircase. At that moment, only a few feet from the door, he could hear Darry's voice on the other side of it, and he wasn't happy. Curse words, among other insults, were being spewed from his lips. It was the police department, obviously, because he kept stating, at the beginning of each statement he was making, "Officer."

He heard Soda's voice after, too. "Calm down," he said. The boy sounded cool and collected, but with Ponyboy listening hard enough, he could snake out his stressed tone. He was sure Sodapop's lips were quivering, and tears were at the edge of his eyes.

Opening the door, Pony proved himself right.

Soda was standing with the phone still up to his ear, his jaw had dropped, and the tears that had welled in his eyes had begun to fall.

"Pony!" he squealed, and ran towards his younger brother with his arms open, dropping the phone to the ground with no sort of care. The two boys crashed into one another, and Ponyboy's back slammed against the wall, and he was overtaken, and out of breath, before he wrapped his own arms around his brother. Soda was warm, and he smelled like gasoline. He was home. Feeling him in that moment, the mass of his body, the strength of those broad shoulders of his. Ponyboy knew he was real. He knew that everything was real.

And so was what happened next.

Darry had witnessed the entire thing: Pony returning, and Soda and him hugging. Although his brother was home, the anger in Darry stayed. Standing from the sunken chair, Darry hurried across the room, gripped Pony's arm, and slung the boy around, throwing him back into the seat where Darry had kept it warm.

The expression on Ponyboy's face was one of surprise and fear. His eyes were bucked, and his hand was gripping the arms of the chair, nails digging into the soft exterior of it.

Darry lumbered toward the boy with a rage that couldn't be misconstrued. His brows were brought together, his fists were clenched, his smile was tight-lipped, and his face was as red as the devil. All he needed was a three-pronged pitchfork, and he would fit the part completely. He bent down, yanked Ponyboy forward by the collar of his shirt, and breathed a breath that could've been fire itself. "Where the hell have you been?"

Ponyboy had to watch what his next words would be, because they could very well be his last considering the state Darry was in. He was a monster, a beast, a devil in disguise. Pony was shook, and he wondered if Darry or Soda had noticed how much he was shaking. "Out," he said. Darry's grip tightened.

His voice had gotten deathly low, and it sounded like a growl as he asked, "Where?"

"Darry, let off 'em," chimed Soda from behind. He was prompted to move forward and let Ponyboy up, but Darry gave him a menacing stare that moved him back two steps.

Darry had to control himself. Red. It was all red. Red was anger. Red was dangerous. Red meant no turning back. Darry had never let it go. Not his parents' death, not the fact that he couldn't pursue his dreams because of the ones younger than him, or even that he felt like nothing but a senseless zombie, wandering around, burning himself to warm others.

Pony could finally breathe again when Darry let up, and he rubbed at his throat where Darry's hot fists had been. He gulped hard, and stood when his oldest brother was a good feet away. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and he wondered if only the silence could hear him before Darry responded.

"Yeah, you are sorry." There was Red in his voice. "You're always sorry! You're a burden, Pony! You, and that stupid little gang you hang out with!" Ponyboy couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he also would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting it. "Dally ain't goin' nowhere in life! Two-Bit is just as stupid and dumb, too! And that Johnny Cade..." Darry trailed off, and caught his breath. Ponyboy suddenly narrowed his eyes at his brother. His blood that had recently cooled began to run hot. It was lava that was traveling through him, and he was about to explode. His jaw clenched, and he waited for Darry's next words.

"What?" Pony said. "What about Johnny?"

Darry straightened his eyes at Ponyboy, and he raised his shoulders when he felt himself becoming small under his younger brothers' stare. He took a deep breath, and applied his hands to his hips. "He might just end up like his dad..."

Ponyboy didn't realize it until he felt the liquid actually trail down his face, over the mounds of his cheeks, and settle at his chin. He was crying. He was angry. His fists were balled tight, and his jaw was thrumming with pain as he clenched harder and harder. His breathing began to quicken, and he worried about what might happen next.

He felt the coolness of the outdoors hit his face first, and then the action of his feet slamming against the ground as he jumped over the three steps leading to the door, returned all sort of sense to him. The air was stale, and Ponyboy's feet felt as if they had weighed more than an elephant. Sound had brought itself back to Ponyboy, and he heard Sodapop calling after him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. He knew exactly where his feet were taking him. Somewhere he couldn't get hurt. Someone who wouldn't hurt him. Johnny Amarillo Cade.

The wind whipped through Ponyboy's hair as he ran at what felt like sonic speed. He arrived at Johnny's home in minutes, and knew well enough not to knock on the front door at whatever time of night it was. So he went around the house, and lightly tapped the sill of Johnny's window. A few seconds passed before the boys' head lifted to watch Pony's watered eyes, and his own dark brown had appeared to have sunken, and his brows did the same.

"Johnny," Ponyboy whispered at the sight of him. "Johnny, you awake?"

The window lifting a bit was Pony's answer. "What is it?" asked Johnny, quiet and cautious. He couldn't risk his father overhearing him, or potentially feeling the breeze of the cool air outside tickle his feet.

"I..." Ponyboy could barely speak, and he had to catch his staggered breaths to continue. "I need to get away from here."

It was Johnny's chance to escape, if only for a few hours. A few hours he might not have tomorrow if he were given the luxury to actually wake to see the light of day.

Johnny's legs came out first, and Ponyboy guided him down. He felt a rather thick liquid on his hand, and when he offered his palm to the moonlight, it showed that his hand had been stained with blood. He looked to Johnny, but the boy wouldn't raise his eyes to him. "Blood?"

Johnny's eyes flickered at Pony's face for a split second before finding the dark ground again. He shrugged, and offered a meek, "It ain't nothin'..." There was a long, drawn out silence before the two began to move toward the park in a quiet solitude.

They both drifted toward the fountain that had become the main entertainment of the little park. Johnny took a seat on the edge, and Ponyboy next to him. The boys sat there for a long time. It felt like forever for the both of them. Johnny kept his eyes on the ground, twiddled his thumbs, and listened to sound of grasshoppers. Ponyboy was sitting there, too. He said and did nothing, but rub his sweaty palms together. The two boys were spent. They had everything to say, but at the same some, nothing to say, either. At least they didn't know how to address it.

The silence had become too much, and Johnny had managed to lift his eyes, and peak over at Ponyboy, who was gazing at his hands with a distant look in those beautiful eyes of his. He was there, but he wasn't all there.

"Pony?" Johnny had choked his name out as if it hurt his throat, and he cleared it before saying anything else. "Ponyboy, you okay?"

The boy lifted his eyes, poked his tongue out to wet his lips, and clasped his hands together. Johnny watched as he nodded his head subtly. "Yeah," he answered. "I'm here." But even Pony wondered if what he said was the truth.

"What made you come and get me?" croaked Johnny. His voice was still playing games with him. He blamed it on all the crying he had done just hours ago.

"Just..." Ponyboy didn't know what to say, exactly. He shrugged his shoulders. "I had to get away from everything, you know?"

Johnny knew exactly what Ponyboy meant by "getting away." He wasn't a stranger to Death. He'd been on the verge of it multiple times. Slitted wrists, bruises from his own self abuse. He once did anything to get away from reality, because it was treating him like shit. "I know..."

Just staring at the boy as silence overtook everything again, Johnny had the confession right on the edge of his lips. Just cracking them open would spill his secret. It would finally set him free. Everything that he's felt - that he's ever felt, would be out in the open, and Ponyboy would be the Judge, Jury and Executioner. Johnny shifted his knees inward towards Ponyboy, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. He tasted the thickness of vomit at the back of his throat, and was almost compelled to not say anything at all. His breathing quickened, and his palms became sweaty as Pony's had done, and he was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest. "Ponyboy," he said his name with a certain heedfulness. The boys' blue eyes peered up at him, and Johnny felt as if he were on stage, and Ponyboy were a plethora of students staring back at him.

"What is it?" asked Ponyboy. Johnny watched as he licked his lips again.

The boy went to open his mouth to form words when his eyes were confronted with a blinding degree of light. The sound of a purring engine greeted Johnny's ears, and he knew exactly who was on the other end of those bright lights. They hooted and hollered, and Pony's mouth fell open. "Socs," he breathed, and stood from the edge of the fountain. Johnny stood beside him.

The six boys walked into the headlights, and they looked tall and dark; their silhouettes dangerous and threatening. "Guess we should finish what we started earlier, boys," said one of them, and they moved forward as one. A sea of darkness was coming at Ponyboy and Johnny, and there was no safe place to run.

The boys had gone for Ponyboy first, considering that he had made his body as a shield for Johnny, and once they took him down, Johnny wasn't safe at all. They knocked the young boy to the ground, and began to beat on him. Johnny felt hits and kicks from everywhere. On his back, his side, his face. The fatigue that his father had put him in when he'd beat him earlier had not been settled yet, so the kicks and hits that were coming had racked his body to bits. Pain ricocheted through him, and there were no more screams left that could save him. He didn't hear Ponyboy. He figured he was dead. It was probably best if he was dead. Neither of them needed this. They needed to get away. Earth was not an escape, it was a nightmare. It was fire and ruin. It was death and destruction.

Johnny felt water. All of it surrounded him, his face, his mouth, his nose. It burned. Bubbles filled his vision, and once they burst, he was confronted with the color blue, and many pennies that had marked the ground of the fountain. He was in the fountain. They were trying to drown him.

They lifted his head from the water, and Johnny gasped for the sudden gift of air, and then his head was plunged back into the water. His heart was beating faster than it ever was before, and he feared he'd have a stroke, or heart attack. He was knocking on Death's doorstep, and the Socs were going to throw him into Death's house, and leave him there.

Air met his nostrils again, and then water clouded his view.

He heard voices above the water. They were shouting, but what it was, exactly, Johnny had no idea. Pulling him up from under the water, he finally heard their voices loud and clear.

"Teach him all the way, boys!" yelled one boy who's hands were clearly clean. Spinning Johnny around, he caught a glimpse at one boy leaning against the car, arms folded, head tilted. He was enjoying every second of it. Johnny got a quick look at Ponyboy, too. His face was red and bruised, and his eye was two times its normal size.

The back of Johnny's head slammed against the pavement near the fountain, and he saw stars, and could comprehend nothing but the hands that were locked around his throat.

The air struggled to flow through him, and when his vision cleared before blurring again, he saw the Socs' face that was choking him. He was blond-haired and blue-eyed, and he'd be damned if he said he looked like Ponyboy, but he did.

"You're gonna die tonight, little greaser," promised the boy. "And so is your friend..." His grip tightened even worse, and Johnny was sure the boy meant what he said. Voices became distant, he lost feeling in his hands, and his vision was lessening. Darkness reached out for him, and Johnny stretched his hand.

* * *

His vision returned, and the blackness had retracted.

There were no hands on his throat, and feet on his ribs. He could no longer hear the sound of purring engines, or the hollering of wild Socs. Just the music of the grasshoppers.

Johnny lifted himself, looked over to the left of him, where the fountain was, and watched as Ponyboy stood and stared at the shimmering water. He seemed to be in a trance. Johnny had brought his brows together, and murmured Pony's name, but the boy paid no attention to him.

Standing from the wet ground, Johnny could barely walk, but he forced himself to. Arriving at Ponyboy's side, he saw the body of that same demon that almost ended his life, floating in the pool of red water. Johnny sucked in a quick and sharp breath, and raised his hand to his lips.

Turning to Ponyboy, he could read the sickness on his face from a mile away. There was no enjoyment in doing what he did. He could see the look in his eyes. That fervent fire that had burned in them was gone, and was replaced with something dark and dead.

"He tried to kill you." Ponyboy's voice was flat. He possessed no emotion, no sense of awareness. He was gone. Johnny wondered if there was any turning back.

The sound of something small and metallic fell to the ground and made a _clanking_ noise. Johnny's eyes shot downward, and it was a blade that Ponyboy had released from his hand.

Frozen in shock, Johnny was forced to guide Ponyboy and himself from the crime scene. The sun would rise, and someone would find the body. He wanted to be far away from there before that happened. He knew what would have to be done.


	3. Church Walls and Vacant Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The death of a Soc at the end of the last chapter sends Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis scrambling as they search for a safe place to stay. Dallas Winston has answers for them, but it involves the two boys leaving their town, friends, and loved ones behind, until the scandal of a Socs' murder fizzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 80 Hits? Alright! Let's keep that number going up! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! More chapters to come in the later weeks! Hope you enjoy this one!

The night had begun to feel like the morning. It seemed like that big white ball that had lit the sparkling night sky was actually a ball of fire, and they were about to be roasted alive. Maybe it was the scuffle that they had just endured, or the running they had done to get away from the crime scene. Johnny blamed it on them both.He also figured it was dangerous for his heart to be pumping so fast. It'd burst from his chest if he kept the horrible breathing up that had overtaken him. It felt as if someone had took a hold of his lungs and squeezed as tight as they could. He had to stop smoking. Ponyboy wasn't a saint, either, and was wheezing just as bad, but he could manage better.Still, it surprised Johnny, because, mixing with the sweat that had stained his face, was the salty liquid of tears. Peaking over at Pony, to check on him, through the haze that had covered his eyes, he discovered that the boy still had that indiscernible look on his face. He didn't want to say that his friend lacked a heart, because Ponyboy had the most heart of anyone Johnny had ever met, but he had become numb in the last few minutes of them being together, a side of him Johnny had rarely seen. He liked that it was rare, though, because Ponyboy was his ray of light. That light was waning, and he didn't know if he had the power to keep it burning.

Johnny had opened his mouth to tell Pony that they were going to be safe - that everything was going to be okay. Even though he didn't believe his own words, he had to make Ponyboy listen. But when his lips had began to form words, he felt the disgusting taste of vomit at the back of his throat, and the oatmeal he'd had from earlier had resurfaced in the form of a brown goo that had surprisingly looked worse going in than it did coming out.

He keeled over onto his side, and screamed into the air. Ponyboy had landed right beside him, but hadn't thrown up, and didn't seem to have noticed when Johnny did, either. He just laid there next to his friend, eyes glued to the diamonds that twinkled in the sky, and held his hands crossed over his chest, as if he were lying in a coffin, or something. The shattering sound that Johnny figured was only in his ears, but sounded far away, was that of his heart, breaking into bits. The life they had lived, and the days ahead of them, would be nothing but that of a fox's. Hiding. Hunting. Running. Freedom would never be an option for the two of them. Not again. Not ever in a million years, as long as their hearts were beating, and blood flowed through their veins, they'd never be able to roam the Earth as they had done before.

They weren't dandelions. Not by a long shot. But they weren't weeds, either.

"I can't go home."

Johnny's eyes went to Ponyboy. He was still staring at the sky. His voice wasn't sad, or even slightly forgiving, in the sense that he had regretted what he'd done. It was hollow. That was worse.

"Where're gonna go then?" The question had scared Johnny Cade to death. Had he walked into his father's home at whatever time it was, he'd be killed without a second thought. That option was thrown out the window the minute he'd left his room. "Who else do we have left that'll take us?" The latter question had made him sound even more pathetic. It was only Johnny, Pony, his brothers, Dally, Two-Bit, Steve, and a handful of others that had stuck together. They had no aunts or uncles - no grandparents to visit when things had gotten tough. Only each other. It wasn't so bad, the more he thought about it, but on the surface, it was the saddest thing ever.

The person Pony had thought of wasn't exactly on speaking terms with Johnny ever since they'd gotten caught up in that foul exchange of words, but it was better than nothing. They had no place to go, no place to hide. They needed to be gone before the sun came up, and the more Pony stared at the moon, the more he'd become paranoid that even if it could see them they weren't safe. "Dally'll help us..."

Dallas Winston. That boy with the crooked smile and tongue made of daggers had wrecked Johnny. They hadn't been on speaking terms for just a day, but it'd seemed like forever. A day without his laugh or wisecracks was like eons without a hint of light. Johnny had liked to think that it was Ponyboy that had kept the gang together, or someone else a little bit more innocent, like Sodapop, or even a clueless, like Two-Bit. But it was Dally that had done that. It was him that had kept the group tethered to life. He did see the worst of it all. He'd been to jail, had witnessed various shootings and crimes. He had seen the darkest that the world had to offer, Johnny had figured. Maybe the situation he was in wouldn't be a surprise to him.

Johnny had propped himself up on his elbow, and turned to Pony who was still mesmerized by the night. Little did he know that Pony had wished he was far away from where he was. He had felt the feel on his hair being pushed back, and the warmth that had come afterwards. He averted his gaze to Johnny's. His eyes were dark, too. Not as dark as the night sky, of course, but dark to the point that he was able to spot his own reflection in that pretty shade of brown he was staring into. He had to tear his eyes away, or he'd never be able to do it willingly.

"To Dally's it is..." Johnny didn't seem particularly wild about the idea, but they needed him.

The two boys lifted themselves to their feet, and began toward the small club they knew Dally would be. It'd been a hotspot of his, and also personal place for him to get some rest. It was like home for him. Any place was, really.

Approaching the small building, the boys had no doubt they were in the right place, because the music was blasting, and the ground had been littered with beer bottles and trash, and the cars outside the place were beat up, and a stench had risen into the air that made Pony and Johnny both gag.

"Must be in the right spot," said Pony. Johnny had heard him, even though his voice was as low as a mumble. He had giggled lightly, and turned to the blond-haired kid that had put the smile on his face. Ponyboy had smiled, too, but it wasn't wide, like normal. But it was a smile. It was something that indicated there was _some_ life left in him.

They had walked up to the door with a certain cautiousness that meant taking slow, deliberate steps, and Pony had captured the lead. Johnny figured it was him still trying to protect him.

Pony had knocked on the door three times, and it wasn't long before it had opened. It was Dally. His dark eyes had seemed to have collapsed on themselves, and Pony wondered if the boy could even see. He was shirtless and shoeless and sweating, his hand occupied with a half empty beer bottle. The moment he breathed in Pony's face, he could instantly smell the cheap alcohol on his lips. Johnny, too, because he had exhaled away from Dally. Pony coughed, and raised his arm to his face to shield it from the hard smell of the inside.

He didn't know if Dally would understand a word he'd say, but he spoke anyhow. "We need somewhere to stay." He couldn't even look him in his drunk eyes as he spoke his next words. "I did something bad..." Dally knew Ponyboy had done a bunch of bad stuff, like walk around without a knife, and talk to that stupid Socs girl that had turned him down. He figured the kid must've done something else "bad," too, like steal a pack of gum. He'd let the boy inside, and told him to head to the back. When he'd come face-to-face with Johnny, however, the drunkenness in his eyes had completely faded. It was as if he had become sober with one glance. He nodded at Johnny, and the boy just brushed his shoulder, and stepped over the threshold and into the club where it was crowded, and every person he bumped into seemed to just sway away from him, and into someone else. It was a domino effect.

Ponyboy had seem to have made himself comfortable on the bed, but when Johnny entered the room, he had jumped from the sunken in mattress, and went to him. He saw the look of pain and stress in his eyes, and he knew, without a doubt that the boy needed rest. They both needed some rest. "You okay?"

Johnny nodded his head quick, and had took a seat on the bed. Dally had entered the room just seconds later. It wasn't until Johnny had looked up, that he had seen the white shirt flying at him, and he _jumped_ horribly. Dally noticed, and murmured an apology.

"We've been through some stuff," Ponyboy had said vaguely. "Things..." He watched Johnny strip out of the corner of his eyes. He saw the outlines of his still-forming abs, and his ribs were peaking from under his brown skin, too. He shook his head to correct his stare to Dally who'd been looking at Johnny as well. Ponyboy could read the sadness on his face, and the words he wanted to say were stuck in the form of a lump in his throat. Never had he ever been good with apologies, but Johnny was a different story for him.

Dally had taken a seat next to the small boy, and had wrapped his arm around him. Johnny couldn't stand the smell of the beer on him, because it made it seem as if his father had been there, too. But he managed, for the friend he knew was inside that devil next to him.

"I hope ya know that what I said to you wasn't right, and I'm sorry..." Silence had prevailed. Johnny had nodded his head, because it was all he could do. His tongue had forbade him from talking, and the rock that had lodged itself in his throat had ruled out any other choice of communication.

"A Soc is dead because of me," Pony blurted. Dally's eyes went to his, and his hand slowly unwrapped around Johnny.

"Ponyboy Curtis, the softest boy on Earth killed a Soc?" He busted out in laughter. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. "That's funny..." The longer his low eyes lingered on Pony's face, he knew the boy was telling the truth. Tears had rose in Pony's eyes, and he looked as if he couldn't hold it in any longer. "Wait, are ya serious?" His jaw had dropped.

"He's telling the truth," croaked Johnny from the right of Dally. "They had attacked us at the park. They were drownin' me, and Pony had stopped it. He had no other choice."

Ponyboy had liked to believe that he had "no other choice." To him, it was like saying that Jesus Christ had another choice. But he didn't... It'd been a while since he'd cracked open a bible, but he knew it a little. He knew the parts that had intrigued him, and the ones that had scared him. He just stayed quiet, and let Johnny do the talking.

Dally couldn't listen to another word of it. He knew the consequences of Johnny and Ponyboy being there with him. If the police had caught up to them, they'd be put behind the slammer for years. Johnny wold be imprisoned in a tomb. He didn't believe his father would let him breathe the same air as him to know what he'd been associated with. And Ponyboy... He'd be in a boy's home for sure. He was sure that that would be what would unhinge Darry's already-hectic life. He knew the path of darkness well, and he didn't want that path to be either of theirs. The cloud above their head would never leave. It didn't matter how loud their voices raised, it'd always be there to remind them of what they had done.

He told them of Windrixville, and the church that stood alone on the top of Jay Mountain.

Johnny and Ponyboy had snuck onto a train that went out of town, asked a few locals where the church was, and it had seemed to be going too easy for the both of them.

The days had gotten longer. That meant a longer waiting time for the both of them to get some fresh air. They'd feared they'd get caught by the police that they'd spot driving by three to five times a day. News was slow to get to them, and so was food.The nights had gotten oddly cold, too. And when proper cover couldn't be provided, the boys had to deal with the hand they were dealt with, and had gotten close. Insanely close for Johnny's own liking. The closeness - it tempted him bad, but he kept his urges under wraps, and often went to another room of the church at night, when he knew there was no chance of Pony waking, and pleased himself. It was the only way he could deal.

The sun had rose the next morning, and had greeted Johnny's eyes. He'd gotten use to the burning sensation the light had provided, and sat up, and watched Ponyboy lumber toward the church's alter, and fall to his knees. The boy had his hands clamped together, and his eyes were closed, and his head was bowed. He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.

Johnny just shook his head, and scooted away from the middle of the floor, to where his back was leaning against the wall. To say the least, he didn't believe in God, or any Gods, for that matter. He'd seen too much wrong in the world - too much evil to say that there was one. He mumbled a curse word under his breath, and Ponyboy's head whipped around to where Johnny's eyes were, and he scolded him from afar. "You're not supposed to cuss in a church," the boy said in hard tone that was borderline offensive. "It's God's home..."

Johnny wondered if it were wrong for the fire in him to blaze so hot as Ponyboy's words had stung his heart. "No," he said back defiantly, "it's just four walls and a roof..." The stare they exchanged was cold and deadly. And Johnny thought about how much longer they would be stuck inside the vacant building. He was curious about who would survive, and which one of them would kill the other...


	4. Heart of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, eh? Well, I happen to have some free time, and just happen to feel like writing! Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. Thanks for more than 100 hits! You guys keep me going! xoxoxo

By the end of the week while the boys were together - cooped up in that church they were forced to call a home - temporarily - they were at each others jugulars. But like a gang - like the brothers they attested themselves to be - they dealt with it. Johnny knew Ponyboy liked to read, so when he'd escaped off into the golden light of the rising sun, he'd snagged Ponyboy a book he knew he'd enjoy. He had to. It was _Gone With the Wind_. The boy never stopped talking about it when they'd pass the local bookstore, or see a Soc on the bench reading it. It looked like it was for soft boys, Johnny figured, but judging Pony about his reading choices wasn't something he planned on doing when there was so much at stake.

The town had gotten quiet. Too quiet for Johnny's liking, and he'd done more smoking than he could keep up. Even Ponyboy had to tell him once or twice to remember to put his cigarette out, when Johnny would somehow manage to fall asleep with it perched in between his lips. And they'd created a game - one that involved the flashlight they'd bought with the small money Johnny had left in his pants pocket from weeks and weeks ago. It was supposed to be for when the moon forgot to peek its head above the clouds - when it'd be too dark to discern anything right in front of them, but they'd used it for other purposes. It was simple, really. One person shined the light while the other ran after it, and did all they could to capture it. It became monotonous after a short while. Even a little tedious and tiring. But Johnny knew that there were much worse games to play.

At the back of his mind, though, he knew the dangers of the real game that was playing out miles and miles away. The one that involved him and Ponyboy being arrested, carted off to jail to stay there for the rest of their lives. Or, if they lucky, being killed by a Soc before any of that could happen. He dreamed for the latter, because it meant escape. It meant that he didn't have to be fearful anymore. He didn't have to walk, cloaked in the shadows of the night, to get some food, or a damn book. It made him angry just thinking about it, so he stopped thinking all at once.

His eyes batted open for what seemed to have been the umpteenth time of the night, and he'd watched Ponyboy toss and turn. He watched his friend pull at his blond locks while his eyes scrunched together tighter and tighter. His mouth opened, as if to form words, but only sounds of heavy breathing was audible to Johnny's ears. And the sight of white smoke filled the air. He brought his brows together, and realized quickly that the boy was having a nightmare. And by the looks of him, a bad one.  Johnny thought about going to him. He did. He truly did. Ponyboy would do the same if it were him, he knew it without a shadow of a doubt. But it was as if his legs had a mind of their own. They didn't move. They didn't budge. And neither did he. He just watched the boy writhe in a dance of convulsions on the ground, and tears welled in his eyes. Johnny was powerless. He couldn't save his friend when they were nearly going to kill him at the park, and he couldn't save him then.

The next time he'd come to, he'd breathed a sigh of relief. The light he'd been granted wasn't that of a flashlight, but the actual sun. Johnny's hand stretched across the hard floor of the church, and he'd found nothing but the void of space. His eyes flashed open with a quickness that was even unbeknown to him. The only person on his mind was Ponyboy, and his safeness. But he'd have no reason to worry, because when he'd jumped from the ground and willed his legs to move, he'd spotted the boy, standing out on the grassy plain on the top of the Jay Mountain, hand resting on the broken wooden gate in front of him, and eyes peering up at the sun that grazed his body with its rays. It cloaked his body in a sea of gold that seemed almost ethereal in a way. Johnny was speechless and his mouth hung agape. The shadows that'd decorated Pony's face had left him completely breathless. The brightness had enhanced the blond boy's features, and his eyes didn't blink once as the light from the sun made contact with those blue hues of his. He just stared at the ball of fire like he stared at Johnny; in a certain way that was akin to that of reverence and might, but with awe and beauty and love.

Johnny didn't bother putting on his shoes, and just stalked behind his friend with a quietness that was gifted by the thick grass beneath him. There must've been some sort of _shift_ in the air, or maybe it was the paranoia Ponyboy had adopted and adapted to so well. Johnny remembered one of the first nights they'd stayed at the church, Ponyboy couldn't close his eyes for the life of him. He just sat in one of the pews, and watched. Waited, probably, for someone - anyone - burst through the double doors of the church and blast his head right off. Pony had turned to his friend, and with one look, Johnny saw tiredness written all over his face. No amount of dramatic makeup could make it seem otherwise. The bags under his eyes were that of designers, and it had seemed so dark they could've been purple.

"Oh," he said, "it's just you..." Ponyboy had turned his back to his friend, and faced the sun again.

"It's just me," said Johnny flatly, and swallowed hard. He continued forward, and stood next to his friend. He didn't know what problems Ponyboy was facing. He didn't know what it felt like to kill someone, and couldn't dream of it, either. The repercussions of that night, it seemed, had followed his friend like a predator to its prey, and if Pony wasn't careful, the next step was the _pounce_ , and then he'd be too far gone. No matter what, Johnny thought, they'd go into it together - as one.

Ponyboy prepared to say something else - to rid away the silence that'd crept up on them. But when his jaw fell, so did Johnny's, and the two stole brief glances at each other. Ponyboy smiled faintly, as if it had hurt, and turned to the sun. "You first..."

Johnny gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat. Though it didn't go away all at once, like he fell asleep, it was enough for him to able to talk. "I saw you the other night... And the night before that..." A quick flick of the eyes upward, and he watched Ponyboy's expression change, and his eyes fell downward, focusing on the way his thumbs twiddled over one another, the way his toes clutched at the grass underneath him. "I'm worried about you..." It was the understatement of the century. Johnny was more than worried about his friend's safety. He was worried about his mind. He couldn't imagine the way the night had played out, over and over and over again until... He couldn't think anymore, because the only solution he saw - for true peace - was that he'd stuck a gun to his head, and Johnny didn't want that for his friend - his ally - his brother in arms.

There was silence from Ponyboy. If Johnny watched him hard enough he could see the pain in his eyes that materialized in the form of tears.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" asked Johnny. He'd taken a step forward, but kept caution bundled in each movement. "You know that, right?" His brows had furrowed together, and he'd really began to worry. Was their one week together going to be their unbecoming? Johnny thought about their stay being longer, and what their friendship would consist of then. Would there even be a friendship? Would they even be breathing the same air, or would someone have given up?

"Yeah," Ponyboy finally croaked. He nodded, too, which made Johnny feel at least a little bit better. But the bad thoughts were still there. "I know that." The blond-haired boy had turned to Johnny and looked him in his eyes. It was something that had frozen his friend to the core. Ponyboy couldn't know, but Johnny's blood had run cold. Maybe it was the distant look in his eyes, or the way they couldn't stay still; not even if h willed them to. Soon, the boy's tears had released, and before Johnny knew it, Ponyboy had thrown his arms around his neck, and he'd crashed into the wooden gate, but, surprising to him, it'd supported their weight, and the two boy's stayed there as time seemed to have been slower than it ever had before.

It had to have been a whole entire minute before Johnny had even returned the gesture, and when he'd wrapped his arms around Pony's lithe body, the boy broke into a crying river of tears. "I can't eat!" he said. "I can't sleep!"

"Shh." Johnny wasn't good with handling so many emotions all at once. He definitely wasn't good at nursing his own wounds. His father's common remedy was to screaming at him, ordering him to wipe away the tears, and to rub dirt on the scab, and put himself back in the fight, but Johnny had been burnt out.

Ponyboy's cheek had rested on Johnny's, and his tears had settled on his neck. "I think about it every night. I see him. I see his face."

"Whose face?" asked Johnny.

"The boy I killed!" More tears had come from Ponyboy, and he'd begun to cough and wheeze.

Johnny didn't care if it was the biggest lie he'd ever told, he had forced himself to say it. "It'll be okay, Pony. I promise, it'll be okay." Two hot tears flowed down his face before he blinked his eyes rapidly, and extinguished the tears from his dark orbs. There was only one thing that could calm him - the sunrise. "Just look at the sun," he said. "Look at it..."

Ponyboy had lifted from Johnny's shoulders that were holding him like Atlas held the world, and he'd gravitated toward the wooden post again, and he'd wiped his eyes clean of the salty water left. He sniffed, wiped at his nose, and just stared.

"Nature’s first green is gold," said Ponyboy.

Johnny looked to him, brought his brows together, and asked, "What?" Pony looked as if he didn't even hear the boy, and continued.

_Her hardest hue to hold._  
 _Her early leaf’s a flower;_  
 _But only so an hour._  
 _Then leaf subsides to leaf._  
 _So Eden sank to grief,_  
 _So dawn goes down to day._  
 _Nothing gold can stay._

Ponyboy's voice was modulated, silvery and light. Not even a bird's feather competed with its winged flight. He'd recited the poem, and turned to Johnny. "Nothing gold can stay."

His friend knew then what Pony had been cursed with: a heart of gold. The world was too messed up. It had become rusted with darkness and death and ruin and ash and fire. It was too grim for him to exist in such a state. From the start, since his birth, the boy was doomed. If innocence was a stream, and it was the path that he'd taken, then the boulders and rocks and small pebbles that interrupted its flow was the cold world that they'd lived in. And there was no way around it. He could stay in the boat and die. Or he could take his chances, fight against the raging waters and waves, and die trying.

Suddenly, there was a commotion inside the church. Johnny and Pony exchange quick glances, and they rushed inside. Maybe it was a small animal. Johnny kept his fingers crossed that it was the case. That it wasn't some intruder, or Soc that was coming for them. He'd reached in his back pocket and retrieved a small pocket knife, and kept it close at his side.

They'd gone in through the broken window, and when Johnny had jumped through, pocket knife in the air, the perp had twisted around, squealed with wide eyes, and stretched his hand to catch the knife. It wasn't until they'd crashed to the ground, when Johnny's eyes were big and clear, did he realize that it was Two-Bit Matthews, and the guy wrestling Johnny off of him was Steve Randle. He'd gathered his whole arm around Johnny's waist, and lifted him with one pull. He didn't weight but a hundred or so pounds, and Johnny's legs were flailing in the air.

"Calm down, Cade!" screamed Steve, and Johnny's thrashing legs had come to a halt, and he watched as Pony stared at him.

"You had a knife, Johnny?" asked Ponyboy.

Steve had set Johnny down, and he'd tucked away the weapon, and dusted himself off. "For defense," he replied, looking away.

"Well I ain't a Soc," breathed Two-Bit as he fixed his greasy hair. "You almost killed me, Johnny! That's the last thing any of you need! More blood on your hands!" It wasn't until the words slipped from his lips did he see Pony's face sink into itself, and he'd taken a seat. Two-Bit had cursed under his breath, and had started towards Pony before Johnny just waved him off.

"Just leave 'em alone..." said Johnny in a quiet and flat tone.

Two-Bit and Steve had sat together, and silence had returned to the church house again.

Johnny opened a squished granola bar, and tore at it with his small teeth, and wished his heart rate to return to normal. "What are you two here for, anyway?"

The two of them had looked to each other like Johnny and Pony had done, when things were too bad to even speak. The feeling of something wretched had filled Johnny's belly, and he sat down the granola bar.

"What is it?" Johnny asked, and watched them.

Two-Bit cleared his throat. "It's about Darry, and Sodapop." At that instant, Pony's eyes had flown up to Two-Bit's.

"What happened to them?" Ponyboy had begin to think of the worse. "Did they kill 'em?"

Two-Bit and Steve were sure to shake their heads quick at the latter question. "They were taken into custody. The fuzz came and got 'em yesterday. I haven't been able to see 'em, or talk to 'em. But Johnny, Pony," Two-Bit stole stares at the both of them, "the Socs are multiplying. They're all over town. Dally can't go out without them threatening him." Dallas Winston, scared? Johnny knew it was a recipe for disaster. "They got your father, too." The fear that had seemed to have evaded his body had returned with a stone cold vengeance, and it spread throughout his entire body. From his fingertips to his toes, it was there to run his blood colder, and freeze his own soul. There was no good outcome with Dally being scared, but with Johnny's father, it was an entirely different story. The consequence was surely deathly.

"Someone said my name?" came a gruff voice. Johnny turned to the church doors, and it was Dallas Winston himself, walking through as he were some sort of celebrity. He struck a ridiculous pose, and laughed. "Who you gonna call when the Soc get tall?" _Ghostbusters_ reference. No matter how cringe worthy, Johnny was just happy to see his friend.

"Dally!" he exclaimed, and ran to him. The two hugged for a good ten seconds, before Dally pushed Johnny away and wiped at his eyes.

"Damn allergies," he said, and laughed lightly, just enough to rid his eyes of the remaining tears.

Ponyboy stood from the pew he'd taken a seat on, and began towards the double doors. Everyone just looked at him as he did, but Dally was the only one to actually make an effort to stop him. "Where you going, kid?"

Pony had sniffed. "Turnin' myself in..."

It had looked as if Dally had heard the craziest thing ever, because he raised his hands to his head and spun his fingers around on his temple. Surely he wasn't hearing Ponyboy correctly. "You said what now?"

"You heard me," said Pony, "I'm turnin' myself in. There ain't no reason to bring them down. Darry has done all he could to keep me floatin'. Now I gotta drown..." He began forward but Dally had stopped him again. Ponyboy swatted his hand away, and Dally had given him a look that told him to watch his next move.

"You ain't doin' that," said Dally. "And you know why?"

"Why?" Ponyboy's head tilted and his eyes squinted together.

"Because you killed the mayor's son. Will Beaumont..." The name didn't ring a bell to Ponyboy, but he continued to listen. "You killed him that night. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. They want blood for blood, and if you turn yourself in, they'll probably skin you first, and then worse..." There was silence. "If you're lucky they might just put a bullet through your brain and end it before you can feel the worst of it."

"Dally!" barked Johnny, and the tall boy had given him a guilty stare.

Dally breathed a sigh of something akin to stress and powerlessness. "I'm sorry Pony, I just had to tell you..."

Johnny picked up the granola bar he was eating, and began at it again. The noisiness of the wrapping paper had gained Dally's attention, and his brows had come together. "Is that what you two are eating? That bull?"

Johnny nodded reluctantly.

"You two need _real_ food," said Dally. "Put that crap down and get in the car. There's a burger place not too far from here. We should go unseen there."

Two-Bit and Steve offered to go, but Dally thought it'd be better for them to just lay low and go home.

The sun on Johnny's skin had seemed like the best the world could offer, and the wind blowing through his hair as Dally sped through the streets was exhilarating. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in what seemed to have been ages. They'd pulled into the car lot, and Dally went in to retrieve the meals. Ponyboy was still quiet, and Johnny couldn't stand it, but there were more pressing matters, like the fuzz, and he rubbed his sweaty hands against his pants, and looked each and every direction, and couldn't sit still for anything. When Dally had returned, his presence had gone unnoticed by Johnny, and when he pulled at the door, the boy _jumped_ bad.

"It's me," he said in a hard tone, and took his seat in the car. Sitting in his lap were seven burgers, and the smell floating up to Johnny's nostrils made his mouth salivate dangerously.

He'd tore at the foil that silver wrapping paper that covered the burger, and threw it into his mouth, with a handful of fries following afterwards. Dally just watched him, and he felt like laughing, but at the back of his mind, it was sadly, truly. Two kids forced to hide out because of a group wealthy assholes that took it upon themselves to beat them, and possibly kill them. The Socs were the hunters. The Greasers were the foxes. And they ran as fast as they could. But Johnny and Pony hadn't run that night. They stayed and fought.

"Slow down," said Dally. "You're gonna choke yourself."

Ponyboy was still quiet, and when Dally had attempted to hand him a burger, the boy just looked away as if it was the nastiest thing he'd ever seen. Dally had turned away and sat there, watching the distance as Johnny had done.

"You ain't hungry?" asked Johnny, whose mouth was full of fries, so it actually sounded like a bunch of mumble-jumble.

Dally seemed to have understood, though, because he shook his head. "Save 'em for tonight. Pony's gonna get hungry."

The sound of sirens had filled the warm air, and before they knew it, two trucks, along with a barrage of police cars had sped down the road. Dally and Johnny watched them as they passed as if their eyes were magnetized to the scene playing out in front of them.

"Whatd'ya thinks goin' on?" asked Johnny, setting his burger down in his lap.

Dally shrugged his shoulders, and put the car in drive. "It can't be good."

He'd been quick in his drive, but cautious and kept his distance and eyes low, but kept them trained on the police cars in front of him. They followed them all the way to the edge of Windrixville, and before he knew it, they were home in Tulsa. There were people lined on the sidewalks, watching as the fire trucks and police cars dashed through the deserted streets. Ponyboy had realized they were home, too, because he'd sat up and watched the scenery around him as if he were on some sort of tour or parade, and the look in his eyes were that of a child returning home.

"Where the hell are they goin'?" Dally muttered,and made a turn. It was the street Ponyboy's house sat on.

The small white home had been charred to bits. A dark, thick cloud of smoke hovering over it, and the flames that had remained licked at the bricks that didn't melt away with all the other memories that had etched themselves in Ponyboy's mind.

Sickness had filled him. Helplessness. Hopelessness. He'd emerged from the car like a bat out of hell, and it took Johnny's fast moving feet to catch Pony by his waist, to keep him from going inside.

The police were converging on them, and Johnny knew he had to get out of there. _They_ had to get out of there. "Come on, Pony!" he urged the boy, and tugged him backwards, but he didn't budge. "Ponyboy we gotta go! Now!"

Dallas had driven back to the church in what felt like a million miles per hour, and all of them were still in shock. But mostly Ponyboy, because it was his home that'd burn to the ground. It was him that the Soc were targeting. And if they could burn down the roof over his head, surely they could kill the arms that protected him. Was Darry next? Or Sodapop?

Johnny and Ponyboy rushed into the church, closed the doors, upon Dally's request, and stayed there.

Ponyboy began to tear at his ashy clothing. He'd thrown his shirt to the ground, and had fallen to his knees in a fit of rage. He'd beat himself up. Literally. He slapped his face, smacked his head, and cursed himself that it was his fault that everything was happening. Johnny could sit by no longer.

"Ponyboy, stop it!" he screamed, and rushed to the boy to grab at his hands. No amount of struggling Pony could do would make him let go.

"It's all my fault!" he'd repeated.

"Ponyboy, it ain't your fault!" Johnny had begun to cry. He hadn't realized until his vision had become blurry, like it always had done.

He could've been captured. They could've taken him into custody and killed him. Johnny didn't know how fast time could seize, until Pony had ran towards his house as it was consumed in fire.

The confession was on the edge of his lips, and Johnny had spoke. "Ponyboy..." He'd shaken him a bit, to calm his stirred, frazzled mind. "Ponyboy, I have something to tell you..." It would either make them, or break them.

Pony sniffed, peered up at his friend that had seemed to always be at his side, and asked, "What is it?"


	5. Sweat and Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny struggles to communicate his feelings. Ponyboy will do anything for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about being gone forever, right?! 
> 
> No fear, though! I am back, and along with my presence is a new chapter for those that have stuck by this story and its overly long hiatus, and those just gearing up for the ride!
> 
> Thanks you for 200(+) hits on this story! More chapters to come soon!

The confession was there. Right there on his fucking lips and Johnny couldn't conjure the slightest power of strength in his tongue to say it. But his mouth opened to form words he didn't know existed: "You can hate me if you want." Pony's white brows knitted together in confusion. Johnny felt the lump growing in his throat; hot and formidable, like a Greek giant or beast. Through the unexpected heat that coursed them him, he continued: "Probably never even speak to me again, but I just gotta tell you..." He paused to breathe, to steady the pounding beat of his heart that was near-about to burst from his chest. "I've felt this way-" Suddenly, the entrance doors to the church ruptured, and in came Steve and Two-Bit; breaths heavy, faces shiny with sweat and something else. Tears, probably.

Ponyboy stood up quick. Too quick. And Johnny knew he lost him. As he inhaled the dusty air, his secret went with it, traveling down the darkness of his esophagus and to the bowels of his stomach where the acid swallowed it whole. But it didn't disintegrate away; not like he wanted it to. No, it stayed at the pit of his belly, like a stone or pebble. Pony's frantic voice broke the mold of Johnny's thoughts: "What is it? What happened?" The two dimwits were still trying to catch their breaths in the air that wouldn't come soon enough. "What was the rush for?" Pony was restless, his voice ascending louder and louder with every question.

Steve held his hands up in surrender, then applied them to his hips, his stomach not heaving as much as it was before. Two-Bit was still struggling, however. "They got him," he said. "They got Dally."

Pony's eyes went as wide as saucers; the blue striking and cold. His voice was chillingly low as he spoke: "Who got him?"

Two-Bit lifted himself; gained composure. "The fuzz, man!" His eyes were still watery with tears; his cheeks still stained with those that managed to fall, mixed in with the sweat to form a sort of ruddy color against his pale mounds. "He was at the park, with me and Steve." His pupils dilated in dear, as if transported back to the moment. "We weren't doin' anything Pony, I swear it! Just walkin' around. Then the fuzz pulled up, Dally took off; they tazed him." So filled with emotions, Two-Bit was compelled to sit at the pew. Steve followed him, an arm around his shoulder, but he couldn't suppress the anger that spilled from him like expensive wine from a goblet. There wasn't a bit of him that wasn't rage and fire and all things bad in the world and Johnny hated to see him like that; anybody like that.

Pony sat, too. "Did you go to the jailhouse? Is there bail?"

Steve scoffed, crooked teeth breaking through the chap of his lips. "Hell no, man. The last thing those pigs wanna do is let Dally go. They'll keep 'em there till he's dead and in his grave; fifty years from now, when all of this has blown over. That's when they'll let 'em out."

 _Fifty years?_ Johnny repeated in his head, a sourness spreading atop his tongue as if the words were spoken from his lips. He knew Dally. Knew him as well, if not better than the whole damn group. Fifty years for him wasn't written in the dirt or the stars. In jail, or out.

"We have to do something," said Pony, standing, running his fingers through his tuff hair that Johnny couldn't get used to, no matter how many times he'd witnessed him do it. Each and every moment was as same as the first.

Steve chuckled, ill with humor. "Tomorrow, Pony... We could gather a thousand people and they still wouldn't let him go." He yawned as tiredness fed at his lungs. "Tomorrow..."

Ponyboy paced, feet restless, bottom lips consumed at the dark cavern of his mouth; brows brought together in thought.

Johnny nodded and turned to Steve and Two-Bit. "Sure..." He swallowed hard. "You two stayin' here?" Mentally, he crossed his fingers and hoped not, but the less-than-reluctant nod from both the boy's was an answer he was going to have to be okay with. "That's fine..." Johnny wondered if they could hear the terrible despair in his voice.

That night, Johnny tossed and turned, which wasn't a new ordeal for him. But this one was the worst. The air was humid and _wet_ ; his body sticky with sweat and salt. A musk from congregation of smelly boy's filled the air and Johnny had to get away, a breath of fresh air to sooth the wounds of his heart and soul. However, Pony found rest; the white of his head a stark contrast against the gray pallor of the dusty cement ground. Though his eyes twitched and fingers wandered, he stayed asleep. Steve and Two-Bit snored like bears; spoke and moaned senseless words as if they were fully awake.

Roaming the vacant halls, Johnny was relieved to find at least a little bit of silence where there seemed to be none. Back pressed against the bathroom wall, pants dropped to the caps of his knees, and a mirror in front of him, the thoughts that crossed his mind; the awful, awful scenes that played in his head over and over like a broken record: Pony's lips, his laugh, his smile, his face. It played and over and over until Johnny shuddered and made a small sound of something akin of a pleasured moan. He cleaned where the juices in him spilled against the floor, and he felt sick and even hotter; sweated more. And cried. The emotions that filled him couldn't be seized nor contained. What he felt hurt, and it hurt like a son of a bitch, because it was all real. It had to be. Nothing could ever hurt as much as love. Soon, he returned to the main part of the church, where the boy's remained asleep, and, too, joined them in their slumber; sent away to the darkness as he listened to the purrs of Pony's breaths.

* * *

 The sun rose; golden and bright, like dandelion. Johnny was blinded. And alone. Steve, Two-Bit, and Ponyboy were gone. He wrested over, stretching his limbs, the sound of an exertion of energy coming forth from his lips. Then a laugh. _A laugh..._ Johnny blamed it on still being half-sleep as he rose, but it sounded into the air; louder this time, like a newborn's cry of life.

Just beyond the grassy plateau of Jay Mountain's peak, where Johnny and Pony watched the bright yellow as the sun rose, they were there: Steve, Two-Bit, and Pony. Their bodies moved in quick, tiring shifts; wrestling with each other, grass strewn between the light and dark contrast of their hair; surely sweaty. Then they were boxing and pile driving each other into the ground in an almost painful way; as if to really hurt each other. Or someone. Johnny listened to the conversation they had in between moves and punches:

"You're tired now, Pony?" asked Two-Bit to the blond-haired kid in front of him whose face was covered in sweat, knees buckling, and breaths so quick he looked sickly. But Pony shook his head despite the clear pain running through his veins.

"No way," he replied, setting his stance.

"The Socs aren't gonna be tired. Not when they put you on your ass. Not when they put you six feet under, Ponyboy." Two-Bit charged in his direction like a maddened bull.

Johnny watched as Pony's beautiful face contorted; scrunching and tightening, teeth laying bear and white as he clutched his jaw; strength eluded the nimbleness of his fingers that knew only gentleness, not rage. Asudden, a new kind of _him_ was shown; the kind that was always under the layer's and layer's of skin that humans chose to ignore: feral and crazed and incensed with a fiery anger that found a home in his bones. And johnny made up his mind quickly that he didn't like that side of Pony; rarely ever saw it; wish he could lock it away somewhere and never see it again. Perhaps his own heart. If he had the ability to absorb the anger and allow it to feast on himself, he would. But he knew in his heart of hearts that as long as the Socs were on the loose, wreaking havoc - burning houses and lives to the ground, it may stay in Ponyboy forever - the rage and anger and blackness that meant darkness and death. Johnny rose his hand to clutch ash is aching heart. There was no greater pain!

After a while of wrestling and fighting and trading a few choice words, the boy's - all three of them, trailed off into the distance, where the mountain sloped and led to the road; where Johnny could no longer see. His feet moved as they acquired a mind of their own, and so did he, in a compulsion to see where they were going.

He was as silent as could be, like a spy; crouching and moving forward, butt near the ground, and Johnny had good intentions on patting himself on the back if it weren't for the tension of secrecy in the air.

Steve and Two-Bit were talking, telling Pony of a Soc they saw, right outside the town, of his boundaries, and they managed to get him alone. Suddenly, the road transformed into woods, and Johnny felt sick. Two-Bit's lasts words before they were out of earshot and into the forest: "We got him. We want answers."

Johnny looked both ways before the crossing the vacant road, and strutted into the woods; the splay of his back cracking as he lifted and made a dash to get closer. Johnny was cowered against a tree before Steve's eyes could find him. They continued, and so did he.

The Soc was blond and bloodied and seemingly unconscious; tied tot the tree by his wrists that were, too, bloody and purple looking; the strain evident.

Steve slapped him awake from his ungentle slumber.

Johnny watched from afar and willed himself not to cry. Pony looked to be doing the same.

"What's this?" said Ponyboy, feet taking circumspect steps towards the tied up boy whose head hung low; powerless.

Two-Bit hogged a nasty, near-foul loogie in his mouth and spat at the boy on the ground. He remained restful. "A scum shit Soc who has the answers we need to know where their groups gonna be next."

Pony stared, unconvinced. He half-shrugged. "And if he doesn't?"

Steve kicked the stock-still boy at the center of his stomach; the heel of his boot feeding the toss of his foot. There was the sickening sound of a _crack_ , the Soc cried out - his scream loud and piercing, and Pony _jumped_. Johnny too. "Oh he will..."

Two-Bit patted Pony on his lithe, flat chest two hard times; a menacing smile broke his lips apart: "Then we'll make him talk."

Johnny clamped his bronze palm over the line of his lips to contain a cry from being spilled at the madness in front of him. Questions were exchanged; Steve and Two-Bit mostly, asking where the Socs were hiding out, what their next moves was going to be, who was next on their lists, and so forth. Predictable answers that had predictable questions, but the Soc was in too much pain. So much it clouded the movement of his lips and forbade his tongue to even rise. It only angered them further. Steve and Two-Bit were mainly the ones doing the punching and choking, little curse words thrown between the deathly whooping they were giving the Soc. And though hesitant at first, backing away to distance himself as far as he could, Ponyboy still gave it. The anger in his blood that marinated into the confines of his heart and his bones was far too strong. Stronger than him. Stronger than Johnny thought he was. Just like his own father had done. Flashes of the past came rushing to the forefront of Cade's mind, and he was hit with a heat that didn't come from the brightness of the moon as it sat high in the sky. An invisible force, it seemed, was moving through the woods like a hot demon. And for his sake, Johnny retreated back to the church and cried.

Some time in between the pain at his heart that rocked his body, and the tears that wouldn't stop flowing, sleep had snuck in and claimed him.

* * *

Three silhouettes moved quietly through the darkness. Johnny rose. "Where've you been?"

Two-Bit huffed and found a place on the front pew. "Interrogating," he said. Johnny mentally gasped at the nonchalant expulsion of his secrets; so carefree; so stretched from his human self he wasn't one at all. Steve stayed quiet. Pony, too; the blood at his torn knuckles gleaming red and bright under the moonlight that filtered through the window panes.

Silence ate at the room, Ponyboy escaped off to the back of the church; perhaps to the bathroom to wash away his sins, and Steve and Two-Bit ate the remaining bits of fast food and slept.

Ponyboy was dozing off in the farthest pew, but Johnny needed to talk to him. Sleep was too kind to end his night. Johnny tapped him on the shoulder and requested for him to meet up outside. Ponyboy nodded tiredly, yawned something fierce, and followed Johnny out of the church and into the mercy of the night.

Together, they watched the stars for a moment, silent.

"It's very nice, Johnny." Pony paused, maybe in an attempt to not allow his own tears that he was harboring to escape the ducts of his eyes. "But I need to get some sleep..." It was a feeble one; the end of his voice breaking.

Johnny  kept his eyes turned towards the canvas of the black sky. "I saw what you did." Ponyboy stilled his steps. "That boy in the woods... I saw what you did to him..."

Pony stayed silent but his gulp as audible.

Johnny turned to him. "Why?" He wondered if Pony could hear his despair. "Why did you do that?" No matter the willpower, Johnny couldn't hold back the tears.

Ponyboy sucked in a breath and tightened his lips. "My brothers and friends are suffering for a mistake I made! One that I shoulda confessed to a long time ago." He willed his breaths to calm, and twisted from Johnny for a moment. "I need to help them.  I have to stop it. And if that means getting answers that way, then so be it."

Johnny's head whipped, a small _whooshing_ sound filling the air. "Not like that!" At the pit of his belly, there was fire and fire alone. "Not that way!" Pony looked startled.

He exhaled heavily. Pony knew he was wrong; could fill it in his gut. "I know..." Two tears fell against the white of his cheeks. "I know."

Johnny swallowed hard and looked towards the stars again. Out of the corner of his teary eyes, he watched Pony's brows knit together in consternation. 

"What did you want to tell me?" he asked.

"I did." Johnny's teeth were clutched.

"I mean earlier."

Johnny's heart stopped.

Tragedy and pain forced them both to grow up too fast. A future, once bright, now dark. The sickness returned in Johnny, and he looked to Pony. Both their faces were smeared with tears and sweat and agony. He moved in...

Pony's eyes went big; lips tasting of sweat and misery. Three seconds passed before he came back to himself.

Johnny stumbled back on his heel from the abrupt push, but didn't fall.

For a long time, they stared at one another, Pony's lips still pasted with sweat and the wetness of Johnny's lips. He wiped it away with the arm of his sleeve. Johnny's heart broke. Pony's deafening silence was his answer. He began towards the church.

"You can't tell them," blurted Johnny, but Pony didn't stop.

The urge to vomit was strong. Johnny kneeled and cried.


End file.
